


A Not-Bad Turn (the show me remix)

by Red



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles is bossy in bed, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Gender or Sex Swap, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red/pseuds/Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While there might never be a <i>convenient</i> time to find oneself in a different body, Charles imagines anything would be better than two days before your mate goes into heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Not-Bad Turn (the show me remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Certain Mental Fortitude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781369) by [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o). 
  * In response to a prompt by [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o) in the [remixmadness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2015) collection. 



> Quick note on a/o anatomy and language in this one: omegas, regardless of gender, have a vagina (and may or may not have a penis); alphas always have a penis (and may or may not have a vagina). 
> 
> Thanks to all those who encouraged me, and yes--this is a _terribly_ anonymous excuse to write some a/o ridiculousness. :D

Still, Charles thinks, shifting to admire his profile in the bathroom mirror again, one couldn’t say this was a _bad_ turn of events. 

Tilting his head, he watches himself as he wraps the towel, habitually low on his--no need in being demure in front of this audience-- _frankly incredible_ hips. It’d obviously be another thing entirely were he in for something more permanent, but he’s been working with this kid for a while at the mutant community center now, and all transformations she’d performed thus far had a definite time limit of one week. 

It’s not the first time Charles has been in the wrong place while training mutants, a fact Erik was happy to remind him of when he came home two days back. And, for the most part, Charles would have been content to enjoy the novelty of the situation. It's not every day one gets a chance to explore a different body quite so intimately, now, is it, and one certainly couldn't say he's _unattractive_. 

But the timing of it all leaves something to be desired. 

Two days ago, his body was turned into something a touch more feminine. 

Yesterday was the first day of Erik's heat.

Charles tries once again to forget all about _that_. 

The scent in the house is intoxicating. It’s not like it was any surprise Erik was about to enter heat. He’s regular on his cycle and Charles's body had been responding in kind to the pheromones Erik releases pre-heat. He wouldn’t have been at the mutant center at all, he had been happy to remind Erik when he came home that day, had Erik not _insisted_ he go because “no one needs a hovering alpha.” 

At least the transformation didn’t change _that_ , too. Golden opportunity to satisfy some scientific curiosity--Charles wasn’t exactly chaste before he bonded with Erik, he’d slept with women, he’d slept with alphas, but somehow never an alpha woman--and experience pleasure in a different form. 

If only he _could_. Because while Erik _had_ been with other alphas (and yes, alpha women) before Charles, if there’s one thing Charles knows from the halting glimpses he’s been allowed from those early heats it’s that Erik’s tastes have never quite gone this way. 

It’s unfortunate. Erik’s stuck alone, taking care of his own heat. To make matters unbearably worse it’s the first season they thought themselves ready for a family, and Erik’s off suppressants and smelling bloody _incredible_ and all Charles can do about it is seal himself off on the opposite side of the house. 

He’ll be happy when this week is up, when he’s back to having his aggravating bristly excuse for an omega by his side again, when Charles can go back to sleeping in their own bed rather than the spare futon, when he can wake surrounded by their mingled scent. 

But by then, Erik’s heat will be over. Charles sighs, readjusting the towel to wrap above his (strangely full? is this really how he’d’ve looked were his circumstances a bit different?) breasts. 

Always next year, he thinks, and he braces himself before opening the bathroom door, prepared to ignore the intoxicating lure of Erik’s pheromones for another few days. 

****

Of course, that’s not how it turns out. 

If there’s one constant in his mateship with Erik, it’s that Erik can surprise him, and so he _will_ \--he has, over and over, from the day they first met. 

Charles makes it one step into the hallway and is almost knocked back by Erik’s scent. Breathing through his mouth, he manages to make it into the spare room, planning on getting dressed while Erik’s (hopefully) still sleeping in after a (distractingly) frenzied night, and stops dead in his tracks.

On the futon, dressed in an old paint-stained t-shirt and a pair of shorts gone too ratty and that were _always_ too short to be worn on his morning runs, is Erik. Charles tries to look absolutely anywhere but at him, because of course he’s not wearing underwear and of course he’s half-hard and of course he’s reeking of sex and heat and his own slick.

“Ah,” Charles says, trying to ignore the foreign pitch of his voice. “Erik. It’s nice to see you. Can I, ah, help you with something?” 

The look Erik’s giving him is best described as “withering.” Charles fights to maintain eye contact, anyway. 

“You should have started ‘helping me’ yesterday,” Erik grumbles, leaning forward slightly, like he’s preparing to give chase should Charles dare to escape. “Why have you been avoiding me.” 

“What? Avoiding you? I haven’t been, I’ve just been, well--giving you space.” 

And he’s going to keep giving it, crossing his arms to hold the towel tightly in place, standing there awkwardly in the doorway. Erik frowns at him. 

“Space? What for?” Erik is quiet a moment, glaring, before something changes in his expression. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts?” Charles echoes again, before his brain is able to pick up on Erik’s thoughts. “No, no. No! Of course not, Erik,” and Erik’s mind is so softly vulnerable that Charles can’t help but sit by him. 

“Darling,” he says, reaching out to rest a hand on one of Erik’s lean thighs. The skin there is fever-hot, the muscles tense under his touch, and Charles’s want is a fierce, encompassing thing. “You know I want a family with you. I want nothing more.” 

Erik’s thoughts radiate disbelief, but he shifts a little closer, his body open to Charles, even in his frustration. 

“You’re abandoning my heat,” he murmurs, his breath shaky as Charles squeezes his thigh once, reassuring. 

“I don’t want to. It’s only, this year--Erik, soon I won’t be like this. I’m only sorry it won’t be soon enough,” Charles replies, letting Erik go to gesture vaguely at his own body. 

“Like what?” 

“Don’t be obtuse. I know you don’t like women,” he says, trying not to be snappish and probably failing. 

Erik, if anything, only seems _less_ impressed. 

“You are not a woman,” Erik tells him, delivering each word slowly as if he’s feeling particularly unkind about Charles’s intelligence. Charles snorts and waves at his not-ungenerous bust once again rather than saying anything else that’d offend Erik’s sensibilities. 

“Charles,” Erik continues. His voice is deep, rough in that way that never fails to spark arousal all through Charles’s body. “I like _you_.” 

«I want you,» he projects, along with. «I’m in heat, Charles. I _need_ you. I’d expect you to be here even if she’d turned you into an omega, so get on me.»

Charles blushes and stammers out a reply. “All right. Well. Since I was--well, mistaken,” and he leans over and kisses Erik, hard and hungry, and he’s actually surprised the towel managed to stay up this long. 

Leaning back, Erik takes him in. It’s the first he’s seen Charles naked in this new form, and expression is at once hungry and somehow uncertain. 

«But you might have to show me», he sends, and Charles smirks. 

«That,» he replies, reaching out to pull at the hem of Erik’s shirt, «I think I can do.»

****

It’s not long before he has Erik’s shorts down, until he’s got himself straddled over Erik’s naked body as mouths over Erik’s neck. 

He’s spent several heats with Erik, but he never gets enough of this--how Erik never bothers to keep up with the accepted omega fashion of keeping clean-shaven, how he’s always got stubble if not a full beard, how good that feels against his lips or neck--and now he’s just thinking of how _incredible_ that stubble will feel, rough against the soft skin of his inner thighs. 

Aroused, he writhes down against Erik’s prick (another less-conventional and _vastly_ appreciated perk to being mated with Erik, Christ, the sheer _size of him_ \--), feeling his own slickness spread over Erik’s flesh. 

This is nice. Charles nips once at Erik’s neck, before raising himself up on his hands over Erik again, his breasts heavy as he moves his hips. 

It’s nice, but not _entirely_ taking advantage of this new form. 

“You can touch them, you know,” he says, which probably isn’t so much warming Erik up to the idea as it is just flat-out bossing him around. 

Erik’s hands tighten on his waist, once, and his eyes flick down and back. 

“Okay,” he breathes, clearly not concentrating. 

“I like it in my usual body, I’m sure I’ll like it now. Come on.” He stops grinding, mainly to try and get Erik to pay attention, and Erik obligingly skims his hands up Charles’s sides. 

He cups Charles’s breasts carefully, as if testing their weight in his hands. It takes him a second to do more, to thumb gently at one nipple, lingering and slow. 

Charles licks his lips. “You don’t,” he sighs, shivering a little as Erik squeezes once, quick and light, “need to be so gentle.” 

“Hmm,” Erik agrees. His hands are so large, Charles thinks, his fingers seeming even longer against the heavy softness of Charles’s breasts. “You seem to like it, though.” He pinches at one nipple, tugging curiously. Charles thinks of telling him, _for someone who’s exclusively attracted to masculine alphas, you sure seem to like it, too_ , but there’s no sense in putting Erik off this early. 

And it does feel nice. Different than when Erik usually plays with his chest, than when Erik rides him and bites at him, when he leaves little chains of bruises bright all over Charles’s skin, but still _wonderfully_ nice. Charles goes back to rocking his hips, to rubbing his own scent over Erik’s cock, letting Erik toy with his nipples as they harden. 

After a while of this, though, with Erik’s scent rising up beneath him--after a very short while of this, Charles can’t stop thinking that he’d rather enjoy other parts of his anatomy getting hard, as well. 

He rather imagines Erik wouldn’t mind, either. 

Reaching down, he takes Erik’s hands in his.

“No, no,” Charles soothes, answering the unvoiced thought in Erik’s mind. “It was lovely. I just, if you want something a little more--” he shrugs one shoulder, trying to say ‘heat-slaking’ without saying it, “you’ll have to let me go.” 

One way or another, the meaning gets across. Erik eagerly lets him up, and relaxes back as Charles knees his way up to straddle Erik’s face. 

If he’d seemed curious about Charles’s breasts, Erik looks downright _enthralled_ by this. Charles is aware of the mechanics--as an alpha, he still has a cock. It’s just usually tucked up inside. So, now--now it’s a matter of getting it to evert.

Just like getting hard, right? Can’t be anything too complicated about it, and since his external anatomy isn’t terribly dissimilar from that of many omega women, Charles at least has an idea of how to go about it. 

“Can you,” he starts, only to cut off again with a startled noise, biting his lip as Erik brushes two fingers between his slightly-parted folds. “Shit, warn me next time.” 

Erik hums, rubbing his fingers and his thumb together, thoughtfully. 

“You’re so slippery,” he remarks. “Almost like an omega,” and he sounds so confused about the matter that Charles is frankly unsurprised that things went so poorly with previous alphas. 

“Mm-hmm,” Charles agrees, absently. Later, he’s going to _have_ to get Erik up his cunt, see how that’s like--but right now, already one day gone in heat, he doubts Erik will put up with it. «Can you,» he sends this time, reaching one hand down to rest softly on Erik’s hair, «like _this_ », and he sends an image of what he wants, of Erik’s face buried between his thighs. 

He can sense Erik react to the thought, as well as see it--he swallows, then licks his lips. Erik might be unfamiliar, Charles thinks, but he sure seems willing enough to try. So, before he can reconsider, Charles shifts his weight and settles himself carefully to meet Erik when he lifts his chin. 

Charles has had just a few opportunities over the years to get head from Erik. Up until now, if there’s one word he would have never thought to apply to Erik’s technique, it would be _timid_. Yet, here they are. He tilts his hips, slides a hand down to part his labia and hopefully get Erik’s tongue up a bit higher, and tries to be patient. 

_This is new for him_ , he thinks. Not like he’s had much call for practice. Charles really ought to be patient. 

And he is. Really, he tells himself. He’s incredibly patient. It’s just, now he’s in such a good position to just get this heat on the road. So he goes ahead and leans back more fully on Erik’s face, trying to get a little more pressure than whatever it is Erik seems so keen on doing, which appears to be, “vaguely brushing a hint of tongue here and there”. 

Erik makes a muffled noise, and thinks «really,» at Charles very pointedly, but he surges into it. His mind reaches out, trying to get some input on what Charles likes. It’s probably a testament to their long and loving relationship that Erik doesn’t laugh at him when he realizes Charles actually hasn’t a clue _what_ this body likes. (That, or it’s a testament to sitting on Erik’s face, Charles isn’t terribly picky on which).

«Keep it up,» Charles sends, when Erik starts sucking on the head of his prick (his _clit_ , he thinks, deliriously), «And I’ll let you know if it’s working.»

«I’m sure you will,» Erik replies, but by then he’s picking up the rhythm of this, dragging his tongue in hard passes, flicking and sucking and generally being much more cognizant of the fact that this isn’t exactly foreign anatomy to _Erik_. There’s not _that_ much difference between Erik’s cunt and what Charles has now, but Charles knows well enough that this can vary greatly, person to person. 

Keeping their thoughts wrapped up together, it isn’t long at all before Erik’s found what Charles likes, until a perfect pressure is building and building in Charles’s groin. 

«Don’t stop,» Charles thinks, desperately. It feels weird, the pressure mounting, a fullness outside of his understanding. «Oh, god. Don’t stop.»

Erik moans underneath him, licking up into Charles again and again, and when Charles's cock finally everts it is like nothing he’s ever felt before. 

“Oh fuck,” he rasps, clumsily struggling to kneel up. It’s too much, the outside air and Erik's skin almost painfully stimulating against such delicate skin. He stares between his legs, stunned at the length of pink shiny flesh, and yes he’s seen it in porn but really it does seem quite _something else_. “Christ,” he says, just for good measure, and when he tries to tear his gaze away from it, all he can see is Erik. 

Erik, who is also looking fascinated by his cock, and who has a face that is simply _coated_ in Charles’s juices. 

“Erik,” he groans, and he meant to say _something_ , but Erik’s licking his lips and he can’t think of what it was. 

And before he can, Erik is asking, “can you fuck me now?” and Charles can only think of one answer for that. He’s on Erik in seconds, Charles’s own juices smearing on his face as he kisses Erik deeply, his hips thrusting awkwardly. 

It takes a few tries. For one thing, the angle is different. For another, this cock is exquisitely sensitive and he finds himself wincing back whenever he forgets it. And beneath him, Erik is clumsy and drunk on pheromones, and when Charles is finally _in_ he cries out, a gutted, animal sound. 

Fucking Erik during heat has always been--well. Charles likes to think of it euphemistically, that they’re just _compatible_. That their pheromones and proclivities just happen to sync up, and he would have thought gender to be a part of that mess somehow, but Erik is just as wild for it as ever. He winds his arms around Charles’s shoulders, locks his ankles behind Charles’s back, and keeps up the constant litany of obscenities that never fails to push Charles on. 

And it’s incredible, absurdly arousing like this. Erik is so very wet, and his own cock in this body is slick besides, and fucking into him makes the most arousing, sloppy noises. Charles ruts against him, grinding his cock as deep as it’ll go. He already feels moments from coming and Erik smells so incredible. _So fertile_ , something primitive in his brain offers, and the thought makes him wet.

Charles groans again, the odd light tenor of his voice shockingly loud. He rocks back on his heels, the curl of his cock slipping free of Erik’s hole. It’s _still_ startling and alien to see between his own two legs, and it takes Erik kicking a heel against his flank to stop staring this time.

“Charles. _Charles_ ,” Erik is growling at him. His hands clench merciless at Charles’s hips, pulling him back. “What are you doing, why are you--” 

“I don’t,” Charles swallows twice, dizzy from Erik’s scent and thoughts and the wet folds of his heat-slick cunt. “I don’t know if we, ah, if I should...” 

There’s a thought here somewhere, Charles thinks, biting his lip. Christ. What was it? Something about the pill, and heat, and fertility rates in heterosexual couplings, and _oh_. 

Erik reaches between them. His hand’s still calloused and rough, a jolt on flesh usually tucked up and hidden. 

“You’re not having second thoughts _now_ ,” Erik says. His tone is very _because if you are, mated or not, I’m going to kill you_ , and maybe a bit _and find another alpha who **will** finish_ besides, and Charles blushes and looks away.

“Of course not.” His gaze flicks down at their bodies, the curves of his own and the leanness of his mate, before meeting Erik’s eyes again. “I just thought, maybe you’d prefer…” he trails off once again, not quite sure how to word it. There’s always next year, after all, and what if _Erik_ has second thoughts, and aren’t they moving a little quick? They’ve only been together just the eight years--

“Prefer what?” Erik asks, interrupting Charles’s inner monologue. He’s still working Charles’s cock, slow and careful, and Charles sighs. “Not have a family? We’ve had that discussion enough, I stopped taking the pill long before you decided to become _marginally_ more fertile.” 

That’s an understatement. Without birth control and with Charles in this body, it's practically guaranteed Erik will wind up pregnant by the end of his heat--if not by the end of the night. 

"Or do really think it would be so different? It’s still you,” Erik reminds him, again. “It’ll still be yours. Ours,” and Charles is so swept up in the sincerity, the vehement strength of Erik’s emotions that he almost can’t bear to do anything else but kiss him. 

As always, Erik has other plans and guides him in the moment Charles is back on him, but it’s not like that’s a _bad_ thing. 

His cock slides in so easily, surging deep into Erik’s cunt, and Erik’s groan is muffled into their kiss. «God, you feel good,» Charles sends, grinding his pelvis as tight as he can against Erik’s body. 

So close before, he’s already on-edge, the slow leak of come is already starting high up in Erik’s body. It’s different, like this--he’s still going to swell up, he still might lock them, but women tend to come more and for far longer than male alphas do, and he feels Erik start panting beneath him. 

“Good?” he murmurs, reaching out with his powers, shivering when Erik’s mind reaches back, when he lets Charles sink into him, completely. 

_yes_ , he senses, more concept than projection. It’s so different, nothing like the times Erik was with women before, and nothing quite like it is either, when they’re together normally. Charles doesn’t need to thrust, the steady pulsing writhe of his cock sinuous and strange and doing something utterly amazing against the glands deep in Erik’s hole. The base of his cock swells as he comes. As he keeps coming, this mad build that doesn’t seem like it’ll ever end, and he feels Erik feel it starting to leak from him in an obscene trickle down over perineum and arse, before he clenches hard and Charles is big enough to hold them tied. 

This is different, too--academically, he knows alpha women don’t have a distinct knot per se, that the whole phallus swells--and Erik curses, shifting uncomfortably as he stretches around Charles. Charles works a hand between them, tightening it around Erik’s prick, jerking him in the hard steady pulls that he likes so well. 

“Charles,” he groans. His voice is wrecked, he’s clenching so tight. Charles shudders uncontrollably. 

“Yes,” he breathes, nipping hard at Erik’s neck, at his collarbone. At anywhere he can reach, lost in the desire to mark his mate. «My love, yes,» and Charles thought his pleasure couldn’t wrack up any higher. But when Erik’s cock twitches in his grip, when Erik comes--dry and sobbing--Charles is ensnared, pulled under by the power of Erik’s orgasm.

****

When Charles wakes again (the first time, after he woke to find himself soft enough to pull out, he somehow managed to work up the coordination to fumble for his towel and clean an utterly insensate Erik up before passing out again) he realizes two things, very quickly. 

One, Erik’s got his face buried between his thighs. And two, his cock’s already halfway everted. 

Laughing, he tangles his hands through the messy short riot of his omega’s hair. 

Four more days til his outsides match again. He can’t imagine any better way to spend them than just like this, slaking Erik’s heat.


End file.
